


Riding into Them (pending title lmao)

by Queenyashi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Bikers, Camping, Canon Trans Character, Coming of Age, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Magic Realism, My First Fanfic, Nonbinary Character, On the Run, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Road Trips, Runaway, Teenage Rebellion, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, but like, later on....., story for all ages- but the characters are tweens/teens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenyashi/pseuds/Queenyashi
Summary: Sam Smith is a painfully average kid floundering in a perfect neighborhood. A wallflower of the nth degree, even unnoticed by their own parents, they resign themself to spend the whole summer alone, forgotten, and sad.That is- until his neighborhood is visited by a flock of strange kids. Soon Sam finds themself swept up in a whirlwind biking adventure across the states lead by a charismatic but steely girl known only as Captain Handel and her pack of unique and almost otherworldly members. Can Sam fit in and overcome their fear of the unknown? Will they be able to sate the hunger that their monotonous life has built into them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published original fiction, please tell me how you feel about it. :) I will be posting periodic updates, and I have been feeling this project in my bones since I was a child. 
> 
> Some housekeeping:  
> The main character, Sam, is nonbinary, with they/he pronouns. Many of the characters are trans, nb, or some flavor of lgbt+
> 
> The is dedicated to every person who felt like they wanted to run away, meet Ms. Honey, get their Hogwarts letter, be rescued, and chase their truth.

The day ended with the piercing, repetitive ding of the school bell. Immediately papers went flying into the air, kids cheered and conversations bubbled instantly. The last day of school, the dawning of what everyone had already dubbed the "best summer ever", had just ended. The classroom's occupants spilled out into the hallways, friends joining one another hand in hand, their grey and khaki uniforms making the tight group of students resemble a sand storm sweeping through the narrow halls. The jubilant energy palpable in the entire building as the doors were opened to reveal a sunny summer day.

  
The sentiment was lost on Sam Smith, however, the last kid sitting at the desk the furthest back. Sam glanced anxiously out the window, leg bouncing as they collected their belongings slowly. Crouching, sweeping their hand along the floor, they found their backpack, shoe- worn carpet and their canvas backpack sharing an almost identical shade of beige. As Sam straightened back up, the teacher flicked the lights off and exited, unaware, leaving them with only the slatted window light to guide themself with.

  
The classroom door clicked shut and Sam grimaced, feeling a pain over their heart. Their parents had, once again, failed to be at school on time to pick them up... For the fifteenth school day in a row, narrowly beating their previous record by one day. They slogged out of the school, feeling smaller than ever, walking far behind the bright yellow school bus full of happy, jocular groups of friends ecstatic to begin their summer together. Mister and Missus Smith of Smith Law, as they were known around Pristinville, were much better artists than lawyers, Sam thought as they walked glumly down their street, shaded from the sun by the neatly pruned crab apple trees. The way that they built themselves, their expertly selected outfits and meticulously styled hair any time they would be outside, even if it was just to pick up the news paper. The lawn was also manicured to a saccharine Home and Gardens perfection, with ornate tea sets and doilies placed to the exact degree on brand new wicker furniture.

Sam tugged on their front door, the last of the school children to reach their homes and go inside, only to be met with an equal tug. Locked? Another trial was met with the same resistance. Sam let out a groan under their breath. How could their day get worse? They sat down on the front steps, not bothering to ruffle and displace their mom's prized furniture. The yard had no swing set, no skateboard, no garden to mess around with. There was nothing that would break the veneer of being a perfect couple. The only evidence that Sam existed was their bike, standing just off of the porch steps, the baskets planted with petunias, the seat holding yet another planter of bluets. Sam zipped and unzipped their backpack, tied and untied their shoes, tried to remember all of the words to the national anthem, anything to pass time. There was no movement in their neighborhood. The houses, yards, trees all stood still as though they were figures in a diorama, sun shining stagnantly overhead. Hours slowly crawled by as they organize the things in their backpack, laying out the contents neatly in a row. Pencils neatly packed in a plain clear pencil bag, binders with their subject printed neatly on them, standard navy blue and white gym clothes and tube socks (just looking at them made Sam blush with embarrassment), and a stuffed triceratops that unlatched into a pillow he was allowed to use during the movie in science class that day.

Just as Sam began to accept his life as a forgotten porch ornament, they heard the first sign of life in their neighborhood. Crunching, like tires, was a layer of sound they could distinguish first. Then there was laughing, layered over the sound of voices chatting, then layered even more over the sound of a girl's singing voice, loud and unrestrained. 

Sam rubbed their ears, sure that this was the first sign of boredom induced madness. But no, rounding the corner were six unfamiliar kids. They arrived like a roll of thunder, or a burst of sunlight. Sound, color, movement. They all had wild hair full of soft, half wilted flowers. Their knees were scraped and scabbed and covered in character bandages. Not only that, but they all wore strange clothing, not a single pieces of grey or khaki to be found in their crowd. The girl leading the group had a big, loose afro of auburn curls, her milky blue helmet covered in scratches. She wore a vintage shirt with a bright embroidered rainbow and ice pop on it, short sleeves billowing like beating angel wings in her pedaling, her blue shorts covered in iron on patches of stars, periwinkle squares, hearts, little key chains of troll dolls, furbies, and neopets hooked around her belt loops swaying against them. Her brown face was speckled with orange-brown freckles, and her arms had leather bracelets on both arms colored like a sunset, framing bandages. Her bike was a bright, shiny periwinkle color with sunflower yellow tires and rims, and a sunflower patterned backpack strapped to the back. She was pedaling, standing off of her seat and grabbing crab apples without breaking her stride and tossing them to her friends behind her. 

He watched them, like a cautious anthropologist seeing a new tribe emerge from the jungle, mystified in his confusion. Didn't they _know_ ? Didn't they have any kind of awareness on how they looked, being rowdy and loud and looking like that? In Pristinville, of all places? Sam's deep line of questions was shattered as a kid stood up on his bike, his ginger curls fluttering against the winds, "Uh! Breaks!!!" His timid voice broke through the loudness of the crowd and shattered the last few strands of peace in the neighborhood before he ducked back down into the crowd. His voice startled Sam, and when he and all of his other friends began slowing their bikes to a stop and laying them down in the grass of his lawn, sam found themself even more startled. 


	2. Five Minute Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the apex of Sam's worst day yet, locked out, lonely, and bored, they suddenly find themself surrounded by strangers on bikes who give Sam a complicated offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 was so fulfilling to write. It feels so good that eleven people read my story. I hope all of you enjoyed it. :3

"W- uhh...." Sam didn't know how to broach the situation, how to initiate with any of these people. He saw a boy around his age roughly plop next to him in the grass, pull out a bottle from a two size too big bomber jacket and start chugging, puling his ear length black hair back with his hand to reveal an undercut, slick with sweat from the sun. Sam struggled to make sense of what they were seeing, as a two and a half foot plant sprouted from his black and white bleach stained backpack, with green tomatoes weighing on each branch. Sam deflated somewhat. These people probably didn't even know Sam was any different than any one of his mother's gnome statues or decorative rocks. All of them started sitting in a ring, drinking water, passionately devouring raw crab apples and hand fulls of wild, bulbous ramps in between gulps. Sam's face scrunched up, listening to the chorus of crunching, gasping, chewing, and grass rustling against stretched legs, but they managed to stand themself up, each step towards the group a conscious effort.

Then something strange happened.  
The tight circle of complete strangers, wordlessly, made space for Sam to join. Sam's heart was suddenly occupying their throat, their eyes stinging for a moment until they blinked the complex mix of feeling away. Sam sat, watching them, silently doubting themself for doing such an intrusive thing. Surely to these people, so colorful and active and clearly on a mission, Sam must have seemed like the real odd one. They had tousled tawny hair the color of a dead pine tree, still wearing their stony grey and khaki school uniform, their school carpet-colored backpack in their hand. Sam looked, and honestly felt, like a rock.  
"Hey." Someone to Sam's right said, nudging them gently with a shoulder. Sam looked over, wide eyed, seeing the hand of an older looking kid, maybe 12 years old, holding out an iridescent water bottle with an age-faded dolphin sticker on it, the sun casting a gentle rainbow wave pattern onto Sam's legs, "Do you wanna sip?" Their voice was androgynous, though they spoke with a light and bouncy cadence, song-like against the sounds of the group.  
"oh, I don't know about that..." Sam said politely. The nozzle of the bottle smelled like sour apple and onion, it was enough to make them fight the urge to pinch their nose, "Uh, thanks though, I guess."  
They retracted their water bottle, shrugging. They set it between their tanned, crisscrossed legs, the condensation of the bottle darkening their rainbow striped leggings, the fabric torn and stressed down most of the front of their legs. "Well, I'm Duckie." They said, wiping the sticky juice of the apples off of their cheeks, "what'cha you doing here?"

Sam contemplated in the few seconds of silence that followed. Should these people learn anything about them? The real question was if they even cared. "I'm... locked out." Sam responded, voice falling as they tried not to think about it any further, "My parents forgot to pick me up from school."

The kid with the ginger hair's head perked up, and they gave Sam an intense and complicated expression highlighted by their round blue glasses, but didn't speak up. "Bummer." Duckie responded, shutting their eyes as they leaned back, sunning themselves. Sam took a moment to evaluate Duckie's outfit. Half of their hair looked like it was dyed a dark purple, and the other half was black, tied into two space buns high on their head like panda ears. They had metallic star stickers on their arms, the edges thick with what smelled like sunscreen. They wore a holographic jacket that caught the sunlight and radiated rainbow light over a vintage looking NASA shirt. Their pants were periwinkle with white clouds, cut off over their rainbow leggings. They also, much to Sam's shock, wore sparkly jellie shoes. Sam wasn't even aware they still made jellies, let alone that someone could bike in them. Duckie's eyes opened, catching their stare, "Do you like the fit? I made it myself." They said.  
Sam laughed, but quickly stifled it as they saw the seriousness everyone had. "Wait.. You really made it? Like, the whole outfit?" They asked, furrowing their brows together as they took a closer look at Duckie's jacket.  
"Duckie makes us a bunch of clothes!" A girl piped up. She wore a lemon and lime yellow and green hijab around a heart shaped face. She had a bright yellow hoodie with fleshy pink dinosaurs dancing across it, studded with hearts. She pulled on the hem of her ruffly yellow and plum tartan skirt, showing it off with a bright smile, "They made my favorite skirt! And!" She stood up, clicking her converse together like Dorothy in Oz, "My! favorite! Socks!" Stretched over alien green leggings were a pair of fuscha socks with two crescent moons on it.  
The one who appeared to be the leader from earlier laughed, pulling water from a collapsible bottle, "That's Songbird for you.." She paused for a moment, looking Sam up and down, catching them smiling at Songbird's infectious happiness, "If you have a bike and a bottle, you can come with us." She said, her tone confident yet carrying a gentleness with their offer.  
Sam blinked in surprise, "Me? I mean I guess I have some time to kill before my parent's come home but-"  
The leader cut them off with a raised palm, "I think you're misunderstanding. If you go with us, you're agreeing to go across the country with us. We're... hm." She clicked her tongue, "We're like nomads. All of us left our pasts to chase adventure." She explained, "I won't pressure you. But I think you should come with us."  
Her confidence was intoxicating, yet Sam was unable to wrap their head around the offer. "You just.. What's the catch?" As they asked that, they saw a boy with pastel pink hair roll his eyes. Sam frowned, eyes looking to the grass as they blushed.  
"There's no catch." She responded, almost offended at the distrust she sensed from Sam, "We have some rules, but there's no catch. You bring your bike and a bottle and you ride with us. I guide us around, Teddy-" She pointed at the ginger haired boy with the round blue glasses, "Tells us when we take breaks, and our Duckie tells us when we start back up." Duckie took this moment to do a silly grandiose bow. "We have some other members, of course, who have their own functions and their own strengths, but that's the gist." The leader said. Duckie then stood up, stretching their arms skyward, rocking onto their toes. The peace of the moment came to an end as their leader joined them in standing and stretching. "Okay" Duckie said, causing others to stand up and begin to stretch wordlessly, alternating between their odd greet-the-sun style of stretch, and stuffing their water bottles back into their rucksacks, or sliding it onto their bike's holding compartment, "Our five minute break is up. Back on the dusty trail." As they all started to mount their bikes, Teddy lingered a moment, squeezing Sam's hand in his, offering a smile that illuminated his whole face in its earnestness, "I think you need to come with us." He said in a tender, timid voice before letting go, going to his bike without turning around.


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Sam seize this moment? As this magnificent group of kids exits their life as suddenly and strangely as they entered, Sam grapples with their choice. 
> 
> When your whole life you've been forgotten, what is it like to finally feel found?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing skills are improving, I promise. :3 Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts, what I can improve, etc etc.

Bike wheels spinning  
Pedals pushed down by toned legs  
The crunch of gravel  
The auburn curls of the leader bounced in rhythm

As they left Sam's street. Maybe Sam's life. And they were just watching. Passive. Always Passive. _Always. Passive._ Allowing their parents to forget them without a complaint. Allowing their teacher to shut the door. The bus to leave without them. The _Nomads_ to leave without them!  
What where they doing?! 

"WAIT!" Sam shouted as they reached the curb of their street, seeming miles away, "I'M COMING WITH YOU!" Birds scattered as they dared to join in the newly sowed discord in their perfect neighborhood with a shout.

Had they heard?  
Did it matter?

Sam sprinted, backpack in hand, back onto their mother's porch. The tea pot, carefully and slowly placed with perfect precision by their mother was coarsely grabbed and stuffed into their backpack. The bike which had been used to delicately express that yes, a child lived there, but not one to get sweaty and dirty, and filled with mint and petunia was jerked out of the garden. The petunia pot on the seat clanged against the stone sidewalk. 

Sam leapt onto the seat, pushing their feet down onto the pedals with all of their might, willing the sagging, flat tires to roll, roll, roll forward.  
Please, Sam thought.  
Please work.   
I don't want to be left behind again.

The bike rolled forward, Sam at the helm, pushing and standing off of the dusty seat to increase the speed. Houses began to pass a little faster, then faster, then their thin body absorbed the shock of the bike wheeling off of the curb, pointing to the main street.   
Then beside them, cruising leisurely, was their leader, leaning on the handle of their bike, giving them a cheeky grin.   
On their other side, Duckie's outfit nearly blinded them, "Hey! Good to see ya!" They said triumphantly.   
From behind them, more bikes, the sound of chains clicking and wheels crunching and the whistle of wind from their movement.   
Someone let out a loud howl, a mix of wolf and Lost Boy, and then more voices joined in, including Duckie, including the Leader even. Seven total. It reverberated and echoed off of the hills and through the still streets.   
"We waited for you." The leader said. She reached over, confident on her bike as though it was an extension of her legs, her hand clapping Sam's shoulder, triumphant, "I knew you would come around. You sat on your front lawn like you were just waiting to be found."


End file.
